


Two Lands

by Merfilly



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marc, picking his path back up, is given an ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Lands

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompted challenge, to try and reestablish Illyana in the main universe. The concept of making her LIKE Moon Knight but with a different patron was one I enjoyed. If I were to do it over again, though, I would have chosen mythos closer to her ethnicity.

The whispers were becoming clear. She could make out the words 'accept me', 'live again', and 'be mine' among them. The woman's voice, laced with immortal power, but oddly weak, seduced her senses, trying to coax her psyche up from the broken place she was in. Gradually, light came to the darkness, banishing it to reveal a woman in transparent linen, her face lit by the halo of a full moon. When she opened her arms to the young woman, soft feathers of bright colors stretched with them, offering comfort.

"Be mine, Illyana, and let Magik return once more to the world whence you came." The outstretched arms and the honey voice were too much to resist, and the mortal soul accepted the embrace of Isis, becoming her avatar in life, rather than lingering here under the care of the Time Breakers.

* * *

Khonshu might have accepted Marc Spector back, but he had not made it easy on the mortal man. The man had been forced to alter his diet, come clean, and begin a thorough regimen of exercise, virtually overnight. And, despite not quite being at peak shape, the Moon God insisted that he perform his duties, seeking out the wrongdoers and ending their reign of fear by one of his own.

This night felt different, as Marc donned his hood and moved out into the gritty city life, distant from it, but touched by all the pollution none the less. He could not feel a true pull to chase the sirens he heard, or to go patrol the worst areas. Tonight, he went to the Museum of Ancient History, slipping in through a less guarded roof entrance. He continued on down, avoiding the pitfalls of modern security with a sixth sense. Whatever was here had piqued Khonshu's interest fully, and the surly man could only obey the compulsion.

He slipped into the exhibit of Egyptian antiquities, muttering at the cliché of the whole thing, and wandered toward a display of various statuary pieces. There, at the feet of a larger than life Isis, was a naked woman, her back Marced in a red moon surmounted by colorful wings. She was drawn up in a fetal position, but no sign escaped her that she was actually conscious. Marc reached into the display and lifted her out, folding his cloak around her to cover her. As her face turned toward him, she opened her eyes to reveal blue sapphires that perfectly complimented her blonde tresses.

["Hello,"] she murmured, the language Slavic, possibly Russian.

"You're in America, so better have English behind those baby blues of yours," he rumbled.

"America…when?" She spoke English quite well, actually, and he could not help but think he had seen a face like hers somewhere else.

"It's 2006."

"And you are called?"

"MoonKnight. You have a name?"

"Magik."

"Of course it is," he said, taking her back to his place.

* * *

He gave her a pair of gym pants with a drawstring, and a large tee shirt, and then withdrew from his own bedroom to go to the statue of Khonshu. He stared up at the hawk face, wondering why he felt no pull to go out tonight, if rescuing the strange girl was all he was to accomplish this evening. He could not get a true feel for the god that had chosen him now, and wondered if he might have been mistaken.

When she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in his clothes, he almost groaned. He did not want someone to protect in his life, and she looked like a half grown waif. He was about to begin twenty questions with her, when she turned her head toward the window. He looked, just as the sound of gunplay and screaming reached his ear. 

"Trouble. I'll handle it," Marc started, but the young woman was already out on the fire escape and moving. He gave pursuit, wondering what in the name of all the gods ever born Khonshu had done and what the crazy waif would entail for his already massively screwed up life. He found that she was very quick, and able to take jumps that bordered on the superior side of human. He began to feel the exhilaration of the chase, even as the more humane part of his soul worried over the girl.

The exhilaration became dominant as they reached the scene of gang violence, and she opened up an arsenal of fighting techniques to leave him lustful for the knowledge. He had no idea where she came from, what her real name was, but he did know she knew her stuff. If she hesitated from time to time, as if trying to make something happen, it barely got in her way as they put both gangs down for the cops to find. As the last one fell to her blow, he scooped her up by the waist and quickly got her out of sight. He had a feeling she was going to be in his life a bit, and had no desire for her face to be associated with MoonKnight

"You're going to need a mask," he told her, feeling her body protest his grab of her. She relaxed then, winding her arms around his neck.

"Yes, I will," she murmured. Her mind tumbled over the tiny pieces of knowledge coming to her. Isis had collected not just the physical body of Illyana, but the various souls that had been called Magik, and died. She knew, somewhere in this world, a man grieved for his little lost sister, a victim of a genetic virus. She had also learned, during the fight, that the abilities she had taken for granted before were not at her beck and call, yet. Her soulsword, her armor, even her dimensional steps would take time to relearn. But she had time, Isis assured her. Deep within her mind was the knowledge that MoonKnight was to be her protector while she recovered her full ability, to serve Isis's purpose within the world.

* * *

Marc woke the next day to find Illyana sitting in a meditative pose. He was pretty sure she had gotten in it shortly after he crashed, and he was as equally sure that she was not fully conscious. Across her lap was a sword, which was not true steel. It glowed softly, like the moon, and which felt very hot when he put his hand near it. As he did try to touch it, her eyes snapped open to view him. She then smiled, and he felt a wave of need, a need to protect her and keep her safe. Her brow furrowed, and then the feeling eased up in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Marc," she told him, with her soft Russian accent. "I've been testing what my new abilities are. My soul sword…it is different, very different now. And I can…engender emotions, as well as sense them."

"You made a lot of progress in a night," he said, impressed. "Any thoughts on a costume? Or what you want to do from here on?"

"Am I imposing, to stay here with you?" she asked, her eyes more gentle today than he had seen yet. "To learn my limits and find my new mission? I would aid you in yours."

He sat back on his heels, considering what she had asked. He had worked with people before, but that was not where he had seen himself when Khonshu called to him again. He then looked at her, remembered her footwork in the fight, and weighed the advantages her powers could bring.

"Deal, as long as you pull your weight."


End file.
